


Wasteland

by Ebyru



Category: Captain America (Movies), Deadpool - All Media Types, Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired by Mad Max Series (Movies), M/M, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death, POV Alternating, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:25:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5193848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebyru/pseuds/Ebyru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn’t merely about Cap accepting his madness. Somewhere along the road, he comes across Natasha and the few people she cares about. Together, they must survive and escape Immortan Joe, an ex-Nazi with a red skull, and his loyal army of War Boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Not much to warn for except violence which isn't explicit.  
> 2\. It's kind of a Mad Max reimagining of the Winter Soldier story.  
> 3\. Written for Marvel_bang 2015 :D  
> 4\. I'd like to thank [Lady Rougarou](http://ladyrougarou.livejournal.com), [Midorihaven](http://archiveofourown.org/users/midorihaven/pseuds/midorihaven) & [Rose_Creighton](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton) for their help editing the story. <3

There’s dried blood underneath Cap’s fingernails again. He’s been having nightmares, scratching at the hot sand of this endless desert in his sleep. The only time he steps off his bike is to get a couple hours of rest. That’s all he can have: a couple. The desert is a jungle without trees; even when it’s quiet there’s no peace to be had. Cap hasn’t come across a friendly stranger since his friends were taken or killed. Bucky was one of them. Probably dead now. He was always a fighter. Everyone knows Johann – Immortan Joe - doesn’t tolerate rebellion.

Bucky was the only one who knew Cap as _Steve_. That simple life before he became Mad Cap – a loner, seeking vengeance, leading allies into bloody battles against power-hungry psychopaths. Speaking of which---

The wind howls as it whips past his face, his dirty scarf barely keeping the scrape of it out. At this time of day, the wind doesn’t pick up like this out here. He knows someone must be on the way.

Cap collects his bag, puts on his goggles and revs up his bike. Here they come again. More than he can handle. They respect their dictator, Joe, and follow his every command. His army of War Boys is constantly searching for new blood – literally. Cap has seen men weakened, whittled down to bone, and sucked dry of their life fluids. He can’t let that be how it ends for himself.

Down a steep hill Cap goes, his front wheel skidding in the sand, but he rights the bike easily. The sand rushes out behind him, temporarily halting the chase, but they recover quickly, working in pairs to ensure that. One of them throws a pole with explosives at the tip right into Cap’s back spokes. There’s only a moment. Cap takes it and inhales deeply, closing his eyes to brace for the rest. His bike flips over, falling on top of him, pinning him down face-first against the burning sand. The cuts and grazes he gets are nothing compared to the sick twist of his limbs trapped underneath the bike. The War Boys are upon him: they grab him – five pale men with tribal scars and paint – and drag him out, ignoring his wince of pain. One of them uses his boot to knock Cap out.

 

*

 

Dum dum and the other howling commandos  trusted him to lead them away from this violence, this constant gore for goods. Too bad Cap didn’t trust in himself -- a slave to the desert’s needs and the dimming memories of a normal life before this isolation happened. With unforgiving certainty, Cap knows those fine men are long dead. Their faces, shaded in the darkness, can’t hide the explosions of The Wasteland. One mine is all it took. One, and they made sure to push Cap out of the blast’s way as it triggered the rest of them. The scavengers out here never plant just one; they like to ensure their kills with at least a dozen. Blue eyes bored into Cap as he raced to help, but the flames ate them alive, the smoke stinging his eyes.

Cap wakes with blood rushing to his head. The pale, scarred men skitter about, in and out of this new room. He’s in an iron cage, his arms limp to let the blood flow more freely into whichever sickly War Boy needs it. He can see the other cages hanging further away. The War Boys bang into his bars, spinning him around on his hook. “This one’s not marked yet. Won’t be able to drain him until he is,” says one of them.

Another, further away with glasses, nods. He has a thick European accent. Cap surprises himself by remembering what that sounds like. Everyone sounds more or less the same now. “Bring him to my shop and I will verify his compatibility,” says the bespectacled man.

Cap has nothing to distract him from the ache in his skull and the pounding memories of mines going off like dominoes. The boys open the cage, loosen his feet, and Cap leaps through them, somersaulting out of reach. His heart hiccups as he races through dark corridors, hoping one of them will lead to freedom. None do; they only bring him towards more powdery-skinned men with snarling faces. Even if he wanted to blend in, he couldn’t. He doesn't have enough scars, too much bulk, and too much colour on his skin from days – weeks, months – travelling in the hot desert.

Taking a left, he ends up in a wider area. Here, a mechanic smashes at his bike, and Cap jolts, reminded of the face burnt half-off and smiling. He trips over the image, over his limbs as they give way, but catches his weight before his face meets the ground. He runs.

A left. A right. Another left. More War Boys surround him with their war paint and their growls and their hands trying to grapple for him. More lefts and rights. More running. More Boys. There’s a group of them on his tail now, and more joining as he turns down another long corridor. These tunnels don’t end. There’s no end to them unless you know the plan of this hellhole. There’s nowhere left to go once he turns again; this place is a maze surrounded by nothing but death and suffering far below.

Trapped in a corner, the War Boys advance on Cap. They grab and hit him. He fights with everything he has left to throw them off, but he’s outnumbered. His limbs are raw, heated, his skin no better. He collapses when the small doctor returns, pressing a needle into his arm. Whatever fight he had left in him seeps out slowly.

Blood is drawn while Cap is gagged, his eyes bandaged while he’s carried like chattel,  upside down. The accented voice from earlier comes next to his ear, but doesn’t speak to Cap. “He’s a universal donor. Take care that he doesn’t escape again.”

When they shove him into that same mechanical room, his eyes uncovered, Cap swallows. The brand heats to an ungodly temperature as he watches. Twelve War Boys tie his wrists, cuff him around the head, and then brand his spine. Before Cap can even stop screaming in pain, he’s thrown back into his iron cage – this time with cuffs and a steel muzzle. It probably won’t be long until they come for his blood.

Above him, there’s a crack in the ceiling of the dank cave just large enough for him to see bursts of sunlight as they break through the cloud formations. With the last of his consciousness, he hopes Bucky is out there somewhere. Safe and healthy.


	2. Inside the Citadel

There are many others like him; “bloodbags” they call them. Most are frail, having been in use for years certainly. They’re much older than Cap as well, easier prey to capture. He’s like a prize to them. For this, Cap thinks, they don’t use him right away. All he gets to consume is stale bread and a cup of water daily.

A week later, blisters and calluses form from attempts to break Cap’s spirit (and of course there's the brand). He closes his eyes against the insults, shuts off his senses against the strikes on his skin, and disappears within himself when he sees yet another bloodbag collapse. That could have been him.

Not long after he’s immune to the abuse and grown accustomed to the small rations, a large man with dirty blond hair and large muscles brings him a litre of water, a half loaf of bread and a medium rare steak. His stomach makes a revival, growls until he can get the first chunk of meat down his throat. He’s so starved that he doesn’t consider whether it’s poisoned until after he swallows. Even if it were, he may have to risk it. It’s been cooked to perfection, the bread is warm and soft, and the water is clear and cool.

They must need his blood now.

Cap’s meal turns sour from that point, frightening in its size. It’s akin to a kiss of death…or an inmate’s last meal. Will they drain him completely? Have they lost patience with him? There’s no one else willing to struggle as much as he does, day in and day out.

It would be stupid to take all his blood now if he’s “universal” as they say. The smarter way to deal with him would be to draw from him, then wait for it to replenish, and do it again. Constantly. Mining without the threat of depletion, if their doctor is as smart as he appears. Cap finishes his steak despite what it represents. If nothing else, he’ll need the nutrients to give him energy if he needs to escape.

 

*

 

“I need a bloodbag, Zola” calls a man with his back turned to Cap’s cage. He’s one of the only men left with enough hair to figure out the colour. He’s a brunet. His posture speaks of comfort with aggression, and his left arm – missing, now metal, demonstrates his will as a survivor.

The doctor, _Zola_ – sometimes the War Boys call him “The Mechanic” – speaks to the brunet in hushed tones. “Ah, yes. Well, it’s to be expected as your injury is still healing. We have a new universal one. Try him. But be careful, he likes to fight.”

The man snorts. “Exactly what I need: tough blood pumping through my veins.” For some reason, Cap wants to laugh at that. Maybe wants the man to laugh at his own joke. War Boys barely even smile though, and if they do it’s due to past or future violence. It’s best they don’t laugh at all.

The brunet approaches Cap’s cage, his head down. Cap readies his muscles, his blood, his mind to struggle like he always has. The strides the man makes are long and confident, then his dark eyes snap up. They warn Cap against disobedience. When he finally reaches Cap’s cage, the sunlight from above brightens his features and his face comes into view. Even with all the scars, the metal arm, the close cropped hair, Cap nearly collapses at the sight of him. It’s...it’s Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes is not dead, but living through a hell much worse than fire and brimstone. For him to be working alongside a monster like Immortan Joe…

“Don’t try anything funny, bloodbag. I won’t hesitate to hurt that pretty face.”

Cap stares, his eyes wide and his limbs heavy from guilt. His friend’s mind is far away, gone. This is someone else. Bucky would never threaten a caged person, a captive - a man trapped and muzzled, made to bleed after bikers or rebels attack the War Boys leaving them nearly incapacitated at the end of each fight. This can’t be Bucky. The sombre look in his eyes tells too harsh of a story for it to be the same charming, generous man.

Cap goes along with being drained of his blood; his arms hang limp at his sides. If he had fight, it’s gone now. Bucky watches him from the corner of his eye, daring him to challenge his authority. He casts his eyes down and away. Seeing Bucky like this hurts. What’s left of his heart thumps down in the pit of his stomach, burning from the acids found there.

Even if Bucky doesn’t remember him, Cap will get him out too. Together. Or not at all.


	3. Natasha

The crowd gathers at mid-day. Immortan Joe brings Natasha – his most reliable big rig driver – aside and wishes for her safety. She lowers down the elevator, her mouth curled downwards, her gaze steely. No one other than Sabretooth, Joe’s favourite and strongest son, speaks to her as an equal. She and her job are sacred. Her skin may be hard and thick, but her hair is fiery red and she once was a prized possession for Immortan as a wife. Now she is battle-scarred, her back a mosaic of lacerations and slashes underneath her thick desert attire. Some came from her ‘family,’ others from outsiders thinking she was as passive as the precious five wives. If she were, those men would have been dealt with by Joe himself. Anyone who touches his harem doesn’t leave alive. She lost her position as a valuable commodity when the first scar appeared, and had then demonstrated her asset as a fighter. She gained a newfound respect.

Immortan Joe walks at the edge of his cave nook, addressing the people below. As her platform descends, his speech begins. Two thick chains hold up her makeshift elevator, and she grips one of them tightly, her hands shaking too obviously for her to cover up otherwise. War Boys surround her on all sides just in case any of the lesser folk decide to rush them and attack. Not that they will once Joe’s speech is done.

As she settles into her rig at the bottom of the massive rock hideout, her right arm continues to shake against the steering wheel. Above, Immortan announces, “Now, you have all waited enough. Take this and enjoy. Pray while you partake that Imperiosa and the others return safely.” A deluge of clear water releases from gargoyle statues’ mouths, high above the canyon where the unfortunates live and die, desperate for their needs to be fulfilled.

Today, Natasha will change the status quo for them all. She wraps her fingers tight around her steering wheel, her head bowed in silent prayer; she honks the rig’s horn with her left hand. Then she’s off at a moderate pace. Once her rig gets far enough, Immortan Joe always shuts the wave of cool water, leaving the people below to struggle for the last drops. Natasha can hear him on his loudspeaker say, “Do not become greedy, my children. You will not achieve happiness that way.”

Natasha scoffs. They won’t _ever_ achieve happiness under his dominion.

The riots begin right after the water disappears. This time their desperation is no different. Men and women, disfigured and disabled, claw at each other’s bones trying to get the last of whatever they can, most of it mixed into the dirt and become mud.

Today, Natasha doesn’t worry about them because she has five women to care for instead. On her life, she will get them to a better place. That place she knew as a child. A freedom only nature can offer. And with that completed, maybe she can be redeemed for all the previous wives she left to suffer and die.


	4. Trouble Rumbles

With every passing moment, Cap’s blood seeping bit by bit inside this ‘War Boy’s' body, he pictures the person Bucky _was_. Bucky loved his hair, for one. Even after the bombs dropped, destroying all life equally, nothing but a wasteland left behind, Bucky would search for combs and brushes among wreckage and abandoned towns – needing that to make their existence somehow normal. He’d never have shaved it to blend in with a slew of indistinguishably scarred men. One more scarred than the next. He liked to stand out with charm, wit, and the brightest smile Cap ever laid eyes on.

Bucky’s eyes are murky, but improving with Cap’s forced donation. He barely pays attention to the ‘bloodbag’ he’s drawing from. The others were at least wary of Cap – he kicked, scratched and mauled if he had to, using and misusing his army training. He did anything to stay alive longer. But Bucky often closes his eyes, rests them, completely comfortable with a man who could break his arm or throw him across the room at the right moment. Not that he would. Nothing that Bucky could do – as he is now – would make Cap want to lash out against him. A best friend is hard to forget but even harder to find again.

 

*

 

Natasha smears black ink under her eyes and over them all the way into her hairline. She’ll need the protection from sun, and sand later. Where she plans to drive, the War Boys not far behind her won’t be able to follow for long.

The path is simple: go on the road straight from Joe’s base in the mountain all the way to Bullet Town, where gas and ammunition are waiting. She’s done it every month for years. She could drive the rig there in the dark, with her eyes closed, and both arms off the steering wheel. She won’t though; that’s not where she’s headed this time. When the pale boys in cars and buggies behind her seem comfortable, she takes a sharp left turn, and goes down a small trail perpendicular to the ordinary way.

The designated War Boys’ leader leaps from his driver’s vehicle onto her rig. He scales it like a sidewalk, no stumble, just perfect balance. He taps softly at Natasha’s window. She rolls it down withholding her eye-roll. “Why did we turn?” he asks, not unkindly, simply curious.

“We’re taking a different route,” she grits out, keeping her eyes on the road. One flinch, one twitch and he’d see the lie. It takes more strength to hold that in than it would to just slam her door open against his frame and knock him in the sand. But that would alert the others of something amiss. That’s the last thing she needs with five women counting on her.

Calmly, the pale man climbs back to his own car, and yells for the others following him that there’s been a change of plan. Like a good, loyal War Boy, he trusts her judgment and doesn’t question it. She’s been chosen by Immortan Joe to lead them after all.

 

*

 

Back at the cavernous hideout, Cap spots War Boys rushing around. Each of them choose weapons and steering wheels, then leave their usual duties. Either someone was brave enough to take on a literal army or someone has betrayed Immortan Joe. Considering Cap has been in The Wasteland for months searching for rebels and no one wanted to try their luck against Joe, it’s likely the latter.

Bucky sees the commotion and stands abruptly. He wraps his wrists tight and shoves a small canister into a back pocket. He slips into heavy, beaten down boots afterwards. The tiny, round “mechanic,” Zola, skitters over and tells Bucky, “I don’t think you’ll be prepared to fight with the shape you’re in. We have plenty of others going after Imperiosa Natasha.”

“I am bred for war. I’m not staying here to die a coward’s death while others die in glorious battle.”

Another War Boy goes to the wall of steering wheels, and pulls one down. Bucky grabs hold of it as he’s passing him. “That’s mine, Goblin.”

“Yes, well, you heard what Zola said. I’ll be taking your place.” Goblin yanks the steering wheel over to his side.

Bucky growls and head-butts Goblin -- a man with teeth sharp edged and his hair an unruly mess despite the short length. The steering wheel ends up in Bucky’s grasp. “While I still breathe, I alone use this. Besides this bloodbag is filling me with rage and fuel to go on. I can fight.”

Goblin growls low in his throat, side-eyeing Bucky. Then he laughs high pitched, cartoonish, almost in hysterics. “Let’s go then! Bring your bag with us, Winter.”

Bucky’s called Winter in a place so hot and dry nothing ever grows. He turns his gaze towards Cap and a chill races down his spine.

 

*

 

 

Natasha sighs when a red head pops out from the space below her bench – the hidden compartment for mechanical use. “I told you to stay hidden, Pepper. We’re not safe yet.”

She swallows, peering around. “I heard some engines revving further away. Is it bad?”

_It will be_ is what Natasha wants to say, the truth. “We’ll make it,” is what she says instead. “Now go back with the others. You need to watch over them.”

The same leader from earlier scales her rig again, this time with more frantic movements. Violence also exudes from his posture as he walks across her roof; Natasha can see him in her rear-view mirror. Once he leaps down, her window already open from before, he says, “Why are there other War Boys coming to meet us?”

She stares forcibly only at the road ahead. Her frown deepens as seconds tick by.

“What have you done?” he shouts, reaching through her window to grab her neck. She takes the shotgun tucked underneath the passenger seat and blows him off the side of her rig. He falls promptly, rolling through dirt, sand, and the empty wasteland.

Natasha throws the gun onto the seat, her mouth filled with curses she won’t voice. The wives will know something has happened. But, all the same, his death was unnecessary. He was always kind to her; never questioned her authority from day one. In the past, he would have been the example of a ‘good man.’

The others catch up to his body on the ground, and rush forward. They don’t hesitate to ram right into the back of her rig. It doesn’t matter to them how much oil she’s carrying; she’s killed one of them without him being witnessed. The whole rig jolts but doesn’t sway off path. The rest of the War Boys from the cave – followed by Immortan Joe’s red skull buggy – are on the way. Natasha refuses to tell the wives yet. Not until it’s unavoidable.


	5. Sandstorm

Cap squints as every type of dirt and dust hits him in the face. His arms still bound, he’s been tied to the front of Bucky’s car, his blood continuing to move through Bucky’s veins. There’s something to be said about him if he’d rather be mounted like a carcass than stay behind with War Boys (who are too afraid to even approach). After some eyefuls and mouthfuls of debris, Cap realizes that they’re chasing down one of their own, a large fuel rig. And from the ends of red hair that sometimes flickers out the window, a head bobbing to peek in the mirror at the pursuers, it’s likely a woman.

It takes a woman to rebel against Immortan Joe – no surprise there. Cap already likes the look of her, shotgun cocking with one hand, and the other on her steering wheel. Unfortunately for her, Bucky’s not only a good shot – or was – but he’s also learned to maneuver his vehicle with ease at the same time. The wreckage of other War Boys’ vehicles does nothing to slow him down as he quickly catches up to her.

At this point, Cap realizes being mounted does have one perk: he can see the danger sooner than Bucky and his weird Goblin pal can. He shouts, “Look out. There’s a tire up ahead!” and anything else that will keep them from flipping over. To her, Cap must seem a traitor – helping the man drawing blood from him. But he can’t be bothered with appearances when said man was his best friend not too long ago.

The rig and Bucky’s car race closer together, close enough that Goblin manages to land two explosives to the back of her rig. Goblin moves closer to the hood, ready to leap at her, when Cap reaches for him. He stumbles and falls to the side, in the sandy wreckage of others. Goblin doesn’t get up right away, but he doesn’t appear too hurt either.

“Bloodbag!” warns Bucky, his eyes set on the road, his face twisted in a scowl. “Don’t try to make me miss.” Cap doesn’t need to; the rig woman has led them into an oncoming sandstorm, the kind that engulfs and throttles people at the same time. The kind that would usually send Cap driving in the opposite direction.

This time, he’s right at the front, still connected to Bucky who’s too stubborn to give up, and turn back. Most of the War Boys have that mentality, following close behind despite the large, orange funnel forming at the centre of the storm. If Cap knows Bucky well – which he probably knows him more than he knows himself – then he can tell what’s going to happen next. He would drive through the fuckin’ eye of it if he needed to; Bucky won’t let her go without a fight.

The rig driver peeks out her window, tying her hair tight. She glances at Cap with disgust as she tugs a scarf up over her face. What he doesn’t see clearly is her hurriedly rolling up the windows.

“You better hold on,” says Bucky with a haunting laugh. The woman swerves to hit their car, indifferent of Cap’s position on the front. He’s not going to be slaughtered while tied down like a hunting trophy; not until Bucky acknowledges who he really is.

Cap tugs on his arms, drawing Bucky forward against the glass, his hands off the steering wheel. They pull at each other back and forth, for a good minute, until Bucky aims to shoot. But Cap dodges it – hoping for just that – and gets it to hit his chains instead. He leaps off the front of the car, clawing to get inside where there are windows and seats.

Just as before, Bucky refuses to let him in – pushing doors shut as Cap opens them, kicking legs out to keep him from climbing in. Meanwhile, the sand thickens, no sunlight passing through. Cap takes his moment of inattention and slips in through the open roof, barely fast enough to miss the first wave of dry wind that flies at them. The wind hurls at them harder than they expect, and they roll twice, three times, swallowed up by the sand in the end.

 

\---

 

Once the winds settle, the sun back from behind violent clouds, Cap slips out from under a pile of amber sand. He still has the muzzle, and chains around his wrists, but at least he can stand now. Without worrying about injuries, he swivels around wildly; he can’t see Bucky anywhere. When he gets a bit frantic, his arm jerks back by the tube. The tube still stuck in his vein. The one that leads him over to their upturned car, filled with sand.

There, Bucky lies unconscious, his shirt torn and his face scraped from the sand. Cap taps him a few times, shaking his shoulders. He doesn’t so much as twitch an eyelid. Cap swallows, lowering himself to his knees. “I’m going to save you, Buck, I promise. Just like you saved me.”


	6. Second Thoughts

Natasha looks back along the road they came from, wondering if she did the right thing. That man was as much a captive as they were; he had the same spirit in his eyes, too. Someone unwilling to just let fate go on as it wants.

The wives exit, scantily clad, from the rig. All of them careful not to push Sharon with her swollen belly. She’s due any day now. Hopefully, they’ll have time to reach the green place before then.

Natasha smiles at them, wiping sand off her palms. “Thirsty?”

“Yeah,” says Wanda, the young brunette – the youngest among them, too.

Natasha goes to the side of her rig, and unhooks the hose meant for cooling the engine. “Here you go.”

Wanda takes it with a grin, leaning over to guzzle some water down. Pepper steps inside the rig, rummaging. She reappears with some industrial bolt cutters to remove their metal belts. Their vaginal constrictions.

She looks at them, fond and protective. These women are who Natasha has allegiance with; they’re the ones she owes freedom. Not some bloodbag who would slit their throats to escape. She made the right decision.

Each of them sigh happily, cutting away the chastity belts. Sharon uses the hose on her stomach to keep the baby cool in this scorching weather. Natasha checks the rig once more, to make sure there’s enough fuel for now, enough cooling liquid to keep it from overheating just yet.

Raven loosens her blond hair, drenching it with water until it sticks to her neck and cheeks. Gamora laughs at her when she wrings her hair out in the sand. But Pepper makes an out-of-place intake of breath. A startled sound.

Natasha peeks out from the cab to see why; there marches the bloodbag, carrying along a War Boy over his shoulder. She was right then not to care, and thinks even more so now if he’s willing to bring him in this kind of heat. He’s so attached to a man who was farming him…

“Gamora, do you have any weapons nearby?” whispers Natasha.

“I dropped the gun during the sandstorm,” she murmurs through her teeth, moving to stand in front of Sharon and Wanda.

Wanda rinses sand off her hands and knees. “I can take care of myself,” she grits.

The bloodbag gently puts down the War Boy, and quickly raises his gun when Natasha tries to rush in. She stops in her tracks; there’s no need to risk one of the others being shot. Raising her arms, she waits, breathing faster.

“Water,” he says, gesturing to the hose with the barrel of the shotgun. His lips are cracked, the rest of his face caked with sand and blood from the tumble he’s just been through. She saw them spin, didn’t think he’d survive it.

Natasha steps forward to take the hose, eyeing him warily. He shakes his head, his gaze hardening. “Hey,” he tells Sharon, pointing his gun at her. “You bring me it.”

Sharon takes her time to walk over, her feet bare. The look in her eyes is a lot more transparent than the one Natasha had, dangerous if he notices. She reaches the man, handing the hose over.

He smiles briefly, then guzzles from it, keeping his eyes on multiple points. His gaze jumps from Natasha to Gamora to Wanda. Then he glances down at Sharon’s protruding stomach, as if just noticing it through the outline of her white shirt gone see-through from the water. He finishes drinking without comment, and aims the hose down for the War Boy. The pale man twitches a bit, but doesn’t wake.

The bloodbag drops the hose. “I saw your cutters. Help me take this off.” He rattles the muzzle – seeming more like medieval torture – frantic. Pepper has them in her grasp, so she slowly walks over. The man says, “You go back with them,” to Sharon. She frowns but is likely grateful to be away from the stranger. She and Pepper cross each other, and Pepper touches Sharon’s shoulder gently.

For some time, Pepper struggles to cut through the thick bars jailing the man’s face. She can see his blue eyes behind them, darting around, his panic rising. He understands she won’t be able to do it alone. “Give them to me,” he mutters instead. He struggles at it himself, desperately trying to pry the cage off.

Natasha stops breathing. The wives know this very well – how she uses it to focus. They’ll know what she’s thinking. The moment he lets even a fraction of his guard down, the moment he thinks they’re easy to overpower—

The man sighs, still rattling at his muzzle. He glances down at the unconscious War Boy, no doubt considering waking him up for the extra strength. Natasha leaps then, howling for the wives to move back.


	7. Misunderstandings

Cap could tell the redhead wouldn’t give up; he would do the same in her situation. What he can’t anticipate is the force of her take-down. They both land hard in the sand with him sprawled on his back, the wives scattering at her cry. They punch back and forth, rolling one way, the next. She takes the gun from him, shoots, but sand is the only thing that explodes out of it. He trips her, grabbing an arm and pressing her into the sand.

Bucky awakens at this moment, a wide grin on his face. “I’ve got the bullets,” he announces with victory. Cap curls a finger at him to toss them over. As he’s reloading the barrel, the redhead bucks him off, and wraps strong thighs around his neck. She cuts his airflow enough that he has to release the gun. She grabs it and rolls away in one swoop.

Once she has it pointed at Cap, she shoots but Bucky rams her from the side, and she misses. Two of the wives - a brunette and a dark-skinned one – rush in, but Bucky has her neck bent at a risky angle. “One step and I snap her.” He waits. They freeze, including the redhead. “We’re a good team, bloodbag,” says Bucky cheerfully.

“That’s not who I am,” snaps Cap. It’s the most harsh he’s ever sounded, and he never expected it would be aimed at Bucky of all people. The one man who knows who he really is, who he used to be. The redhead even looks surprised at the rough tone.

Bucky startles at that. “You can be whoever you want now that we’ve caught this traitor, Natasha. Immortan will reward you well.”

Cap can’t find an answer to that; doesn’t want to, really. Bucky is still that other person. That bloodthirsty killer. Cap nods his head in fake agreement, loosening Bucky’s grip on Natasha. “I’ll take it from here.”

“That works too,” says Bucky. He stands awkwardly behind him when he drops her. “Just put in a good word for me!”

Natasha coughs violently, the skin of her neck starting to redden. Cap tilts her head to check that it’s nothing serious and says, “You’ll be fine in an hour or so.” More sternly, he adds, “Give me your keys.”

“W-what?” she narrows her eyes. “I won’t.”

“Then I guess we’re all sitting ducks until Joe and the others catch up,” says Cap, crossing his arms.

Natasha glances at Bucky, then at Cap. She speaks slowly. “Whose side are you on?”

“The Citadel!” cheers Bucky at the same time that Cap says, “Whatever’s right.”

Bucky frowns, stepping in to speak with him privately. “Are we not taking her back for praise and glory?”

“Not unless she doesn’t hand the keys over,” says Cap. He looks at her for a moment, to show her he’s not bluffing. He’s always been told his face is the most honest thing about him.

Natasha rubs at her throat slowly, considering the options. “I drive if we go,” she decides. She points her thumb towards the wives in the background. “And they come with me or I don’t tell you how to unlock the rig security.”

Cap cranes his neck to look past Natasha. Five glaring women eye him, undoubtedly contemplating the best way to take him out. But he has no other options – same as Natasha. They’re all running out of time with Immortan’s army approaching steadily; he can hear their engines already.

Bucky crowds Cap against the rig, eyes like steel, hard and impenetrable. “You’d rather work with women who’d slice your throat in a second instead of aim for Valhalla?”

Cap grinds his teeth, tightens both fists. The urge to shake him violently almost breaks past his restraint. This isn’t Bucky, not the man he used to be. That hasn’t stopped cap before, though; under the scars, the cultish attitude, words, are the same mannerisms – the same man Cap fought alongside for years. He has to get Bucky’s memories back somehow.

Natasha clears her throat when Cap keeps staring at Bucky, Bucky staring right back. “Do we have a deal? Those cars are mighty close right now.”

Cap nods, sliding around Bucky’s frame. He extends a hand to her. “All right.”


	8. Compromise

Natasha can’t trust this bloodbag as far as she can throw him; and judging by his bulky stature, that’s not very far. It does help that the War Boy he brought along _also_ doesn’t seem to trust him. Maybe the man is on his own side; he seems hesitant about keeping the War Boy around, too.

Likewise, the man doesn’t fully trust her. He snatches gun after gun away, shoving them in a bag on his lap as he finds their hiding spots. Natasha has one more in her boot, if the need arises. So far, he just seems jumpy, trying to cover his ass. Who wouldn’t be with a face full of metal and a tube in their arm?

“Need help getting that thing off?” she asks, peering at him from the corner of her eye.

The man clears his throat. “Please,” he says, though it sounds like it pains him to admit it’s bothering him.

She rummages through her glove department on the passenger side: mostly maps in there, a knife for emergencies. “Here,” she tells him, handing over a metal file. “Shouldn’t take too long with your strength.”

He’s out in two minutes, sighing when it clicks into pieces. His blue eyes widen with relief; Natasha has to admit he’s a good looking guy despite the sand in his hair and the grime on his face. He works his jaw a couple times as he throws the file in with his gun collection. “Thanks”

She ducks her head politely. The others whisper in the backseat. “What is it?” she asks.

Sharon leans forward, hands on her seat. “We’re almost at bike territory. Will they let us through?”

Natasha nods. “They will. I made a deal with Fury.” They have to or this is as close to the green place as they’re getting. It won’t be because of War Boys or a crazed bloodbag, it’ll be due to betrayal.

She tilts her head towards the man. “Where you headed?” she asks him.

The man turns to the War Boy, not speaking, but seeking a response. He’s seated in back, quiet up until now, eyes darting around from the wives next to him to Natasha, then to the bloodbag. “We won’t tell you, traitor,” he spits out.

As if not what he wanted to hear, the bloodbag looks out the window; Natasha swears she hears him whisper, “Bucky.” It’s not any place she’s ever heard of. Still looking across the Wasteland, he replies, “As far from Johann as possible.”

“Johann?”

“That used to be his name when I fought him in the war. This situation is likely the best for him right now – what he was aiming for – but the worst for the rest of us.”

Natasha seeks out his eyes, but he refuses to look away from the window. “So you were a soldier.”

The man hums, holding the bag of guns tighter. “A bit higher. A captain.”

“No wonder you’re so hard to kill,” she jokes darkly.

At that, he faces her, smiles, but it doesn’t reach all the way up to his eyes. It might be a sore topic. Everyone’s past is a bit like disgusting cough syrup: hard to swallow but usually worth getting through. He glances in the rear-view mirror at the War Boy whose frown could blind a city.

 

*

 

Cap senses immediately when there’s trouble coming. Natasha’s hands grip the wheel tighter, making her knuckles white. She can feel it too. She stops speaking, and the wives don’t glare as much – too busy staring at the road and what’s ahead. War Boys must have learned too, because Bucky hunches in to make himself look more wild and aggressive.

“I have to speak with the leader,” she says as they drive through a small canyon. “He told me we’d be safe to pass in exchange for this gas.”

Cap narrows his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

Natasha licks her lips, sighing. “If something goes wrong, I need you to take the girls through, ok?”

“Why wouldn’t—”

“Just promise. Bring them where they need, then the rig is yours.” She turns off the engine slowly.

“All right,” he agrees. He turns to Bucky who seems restless, eager for a fight. “We’re not putting these women in danger. Don’t try anything.”

“Of course not! Immortan would have me decapitated for touching his wives.” He grins.

“Right…” Good enough, he supposes.

What do I call you?” Natasha asks, stepping out of the rig slowly.

“Why?” To have her call him Steve seems off; it’s a past place, time, that he’s no longer in. But there’s nothing else he can think of, really.

“Because I didn’t mention any men coming along and they might be upset about that slight.”

Before Cap can respond, a large voice booms from in the canyon. “Who are you?”

“Imperiosa Natasha. I escaped from the Citadel with my rig. I have the gas as promised.” She steps out of the rig, her arms raised. “I’ll just disconnect—”

A man comes out from a crevasse in the rock formations, a patch over his left eye.


	9. Mistakes and Pain

“You’re too early,” Fury warns, closing in on her. “I didn’t have time to make all the preparations yet. Joe will be here any minute. He’s brought almost everyone with him. If he sees me helping you—”

Natasha touches Fury’s shoulder. “Then we don’t let him find out. Pretend you came to capture me and I blew up the entrance when the bikers wouldn’t let me through.”

Fury steps closer, making his body language seem as threatening as possible to whomever may be watching. “I don’t have explosives. I didn’t have time.”

Natasha follows along, shoving him back hard. “You said it’d be okay!” She narrows her eyes at him, hunching her back as if to lunge at him.

Cap sticks his head out of the passer side, and tells her, “The other cars are coming.”

Fury stares at her, and she stares back, mouthing, “I have an idea.” She winks; it’s not the first time she’s used hat to warn him of an incoming punch. When it hits him, she pulls half of her strength, but he throws his head back convincingly. To his bikers, the ones who drive their spiky buzzards, she’s disrespecting their leader. To Immortan Joe, however…

 

“Grab her!” howls Joe from further away, peeking through his scope. “I will have her head on a pike.”

Cap shuffles over to the driver side and revs the engine. Natasha rushes to the back as the rig starts to move away from her. When she’s close enough to the gas compartment, she loosens it and kicks the sphere part sideways. She jumps on top of the rig, scaling the side the same way the War Boys had. She drops through the open roof area. “Shoot the trailer!”

 

*

 

“Buck!” Cap throws his gun to Bucky without thinking. In the past, he would be the one to take the hard shots: the ones that require steady hands, clever fingers or a quick trigger reflex. Cap is more tactical, hand-to-hand. Bucky was always the cutting side of a blade, sharpened to precision.

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes get that odd, hysterical look that he and the other War Boys do. Then his face goes very solemn, closed-off, his mind no doubt reeling. He shakes it off as it comes, and takes the shot. He doesn’t miss.

The gas trailer stops its skid sideways and explodes brightly into red and orange, against the entrance rocks. They crumble down too quickly for Joe and his boys to follow. The pursuit gets put on hold.

Cap doesn’t notice any of the details of that; he reaches out for Bucky in the backseat, the rest just background noise really. Bucky’s eyes fill with water, his hands trembling as he hands the gun back to Cap. The previous chatter he’d been saying about Valhalla and Immortan stops completely. He puts his head out the window, the breeze whipping across his face like reality. Any other day, Cap would say something to console him, even help pick up the pieces of his past. But right now there’s simply no time.

The buzzards ride easily down the sides of their mountain walls, chasing them for the insult they inflicted to their leader, Fury. Natasha clears her throat, pointing to the gun bag. “Can I use these for a bit?”

“Guess so,” says Cap. He has to focus on driving; it’s been so long since others have counted on him with their lives. He can’t say he exactly missed it.

 

* 

 

She can tell he’s not only thinking about the road and avoiding buzzards. Something is going on between the War Boy and him. Right now isn’t the time though, and he understands that.

“There are two, one coming on each side.” Natasha tosses a gun for Gamora, who presses her lean body over Wanda and Pepper; they hold her steady as speed picks up and the sand turns rougher.

Natasha shoots one, and it flips. Gamora shoots a moment later, making it slide out of its path and right into rubble. They both explode not long after. A third buzzard drives up until it’s in front of the rig. Cap slams into it, and it flips over. It doesn’t blow up, but it’s not coming after them anymore. The rest that follow farther behind stop and turn back. Natasha lowers her gun. “Thank you, Nick,” she mutters.

“We’re okay for now?” asks Gamora, still peering out the window.

“For now being the key words,” says Sharon. “It won’t be long until Joe is through. He had so many with him.”

As if on cue, the barrier begins to break apart, and off-road vehicles push through the available spots. In the front is Joe with his red skull vehicle, after him are War Boys, the Bullet Farmer, the People-Eater – every specialist he ever hired, back from comfortable retirement.

Joe uses a loudspeaker to get his message to his men, “I want all but my wives dead. Do it quickly. Whomever succeeds will accompany me personally to Valhalla.”

Natasha reloads her gun and passes the back to Raven. “Put the bullets in as many guns as you can match, then take one.”

The shooting starts like a fire, bullets breaking through windows, smashing off the side mirrors, putting holes in the body of the rig. Thankfully, the fuel extension is gone. Sharon shoves Gamora over gently. “Give me a gun. I might be pregnant but I’m still a good shot.”

They let her by, pressing herself to the window. She’s setting up the gun when a shot flies, hits the door in an impossible way. It ricochets, and hits her right between the eyes. She collapses out the window before they can grab her weight, all of them screaming and frantically calling her name.

“Sharon!” shouts Wanda, who’d been impeccably calm up until this point. “Sharon, please, you can’t!” Pepper wraps her in an embrace, holding her down as she tries to follow Sharon out the window. Wanda pushes and struggles, trying to break free, reaching for guns that Natasha pulls away.

“Don’t waste bullets, Wanda,” she tells Wanda.

“It’s not wasted if I hit them each in their thick skulls like they’ve done to her.” She pants, wrestling against Pepper.

Gamora jumps in, pining her body down. “Don’t be reckless.”

“Then let’s go back. Maybe she’s okay. I need to see her. I need to see her! This isn’t right,” she cries out.

Cap shakes his head, his eyes damp. Natasha moves away from the wives and into the passenger seat. “What is it?”

“She’s gone. It wouldn’t matter if we went back.”

Natasha looks away, out her window, tears prickling at her eyes. “Are you sure?” She can already tell his response by how long it takes him to say, “Yes.”

His voice softens as he continues, “I saw it clearly. A fluke. They weren’t even aiming for her. Just a stray bullet.”

This makes Wanda cry harder.


	10. Rebirth

“Tell me, Zola. Be frank,” asks Johann. He stands five steps away from the makeshift table they have for Sharon, or Splendid as he calls her. Her stomach open, they covered her face with a sheet for it to be less upsetting a task.

Zola wipes his forehead, blood splattered on his surgical gloves. “They’ve both passed on.” He holds up an infant, immobile and silent, tapping its naked bottom. “Would have been a perfect specimen as well. One of our first.”

“No,” groans Johann. “No! My wife. My _child_!”

Nearby, his strongest son, called Sabretooth, howls at the Wasteland sky, his fangs bared in grief. “My brother would have been perfect. Perfect.”

Johann breathes quicker, his eyes darting. “Who did this? Was it you?” He points out random gazes from his War Boys, urging them to come clean. No one fesses up. No one has the guts to take the blame. “Then it is you!” he says to one at random, and shoots him five times for each of his wives, plus once more for the unborn son.

It’s not enough. Johann aches. His scars, the same ones littering his boys, barely held on by stitches, they ache too. Not yet healed, he tears at them, ripping flesh from his face in chunks. Pieces of skin dripping with blood come away easily, nothing affecting him except this ache of his wives missing. He leaves nothing but his skull left behind, his eyes bulging.

Johann climbs into his vehicle and announces from his speaker. “We must get the others back. We will rip Natasha into pieces if she gets in our way.” To Sabretooth he says, “Gather everyone!”


	11. Revenge

Cap has all their names now – as well as the ones given to them by Joe. Raven, a spicy blond with a crow tattooed behind her ear speaks to him in hushed tones. He moves to the backseat, next to Bucky, so that Wanda can be consoled by Natasha while they drive. For someone as intense as she is, she certainly knows how to slow down and care deeply. Maybe it’s the only way she can keep her feelings from propelling through.

Bucky stares out the window as Raven explains where they’re headed. “Natasha said it was a beautiful, green area where food and water were abundant. One of the last places in the world not destroyed and decaying like the Wasteland.” She smiles pensively, as if picturing it.

Cap asks, “Do you know how far it is?” because he’s curious, but mainly to distract himself from the grief filling the rig.

Raven shakes her head. “But I know it’s not here.”

Cap looks outside around Bucky who still stares out the window quietly. “Are you okay?” he murmurs to him. They have time; and if they don’t, he’ll make some. Bucky shrugs.

Gamora groans out, “This place is worse than the desert. Nothing but crows around and they look well fed.” As if answering her, a murder of them squawk and fly over the rig. Further, where they came from, muck and mud, dead trees and dark skies are all that’s left to see. In a way, perfect to reflect everyone still in mourning for Sharon and her son.

Bucky finally looks towards Cap. “You’re…Steve, right?”

Cap could almost weep from joy; he wasn’t going to stop trying but he didn’t think he’d remember this soon either. “Yeah, Buck. Yeah, it’s me.”

“I’m glad I didn’t kill you,” says Bucky. He turns back to the window, his shoulders tense. Softer, he says, “I feel like I died though.” Cap’s heart breaks, and breaks again as he hears the words echo in his treacherous mind.

Pepper, falling asleep on Gamora’s side, startles awake. “Natasha, wait!” The rig creaks and whines, the wheels driving into a thick patch of sludge.

“Shit,” curses Natasha. “I need help getting us back out.”

“I know this place,” says Bucky, opening his door. Cap follows.

“The rest of you fill the gas if you can,” he tells them. “I hear the War Boys catching up.” Gamora nods, heading towards the front of the rig.

“If we just get the rig further, the land is higher up there. We’d be find then,” explains Bucky, pointing to an area with a lone, old tree. It’s mostly dead, but it’s big and it’s the only option they have.

“I saw a chain in that passage leading underneath the rig,” says Wanda. “I’ll get it.” It’s the first time she’s spoken since trying to leap after Sharon’s fallen body.

“I’ll help too,” says Pepper, touching her hand.

Cap nods and follows Bucky over to where the sole tree is planted. As he’s explaining to him and the wives, a bullet grazes the bark of the tree.

A loudspeaker begins. _“This is Deadpool, aka the—”_

“Bullet Farmer, shit,” says Natasha. “He’s one of Immortan’s best.”

 _“Anyone who isn’t a priceless wife will be shot and or maimed, just giving you a heads up.”_ He stands on the hood of his jeep, large bright lights beaming behind him. _“I can be cool.”_

Cap frowns when another bullet sends splinters flying from the tree. “He’s not as good a shot as Bucky though.”

Natasha snorts, wrapping the chain around the tree when Wanda rushes to hand it to her. Cap connects it to the front of the rig. She says, “That’s because his specialty is using a sword. Lucky for us, he’s too far to do that.”

 

*

 

Natasha studies Deadpool's off-road vehicle; it’s sturdy but not fast. She closes an eye to calculate the distance. “I need anything with a long range.” It’s close enough that any gun with a scope will do. No matter how rudimentary. Gamora throws her an M-16 rifle. She shoots out Deadpool’s spotlights, and the backlash from the breaking glass hits him directly in the face.

Even without the loudspeaker they can hear him screaming. “I’m going to kill you all!” he takes his turret from under the steering wheel; they all drop to the ground as bullets come flying from everywhere.

“He’s really trying to kill us now,” says Raven.

On the side of the rig, Natasha hands Gamora the gun she used. “You’d better do it.”

Gamora steps down on one knee, looks through the scope briefly and pulls back. “His eyes are bleeding. I don’t think he can see.” Natasha glances through and sees the bandages around his eyes, the blood trailing down his cheeks underneath it. If they don’t kill him now, he’s going to disobey his orders and do whatever he wants instead. “Take him out,” says Natasha.

Gamora takes a slow, slow breath. She closes both eyes for the duration. Then she opens them, settles in and _click_. The vehicle stops shooting; it flips onto its side when she kills the driver too. There’s nothing but silence following. A large fog moving in on them.

“I think we need to fill her up,” says Raven, the hood of the rig up and smoking. She rips a part of her beige dress to fan the steam away. “It’s overheating, too.”

There’s an extensive, silent look shared between Cap and Bucky. They hug for a brief second, a tight warm thing. That they have such an intimate moment on display almost makes Natasha want to look elsewhere and offer privacy. Cap clears his throat when the hug ends. “We’ll get supplies from them.”

Bucky stands next to him, his hands on his hips. “Do you need more gas as well?”

Natasha looks to raven for the answer; she does a tilting motion with one hand.

“If you can, sure. If not, don’t bother.”

Cap nods, and he and Bucky march to where the fog starts to thicken, a lot of the vehicles stuck in the worst part of it.

Natasha calls out to Cap, “What happens when the engine is cool and you’re not here?”

“Then leave,” says Bucky. He flexes his metal arm, each silver plate realigning flawlessly.

“I have to get my bike back,” says Cap, his tone playful. That’s not what this is about, really. This is personal; it’s about taking care of violent, selfish men. It’s also redemption for a man who’d thought he belonged but was kept as a prisoner. Made into a killer.


	12. Familiar Faces

The sky seems darker to Natasha while the two men are in the fog. Even the crows disappear from overhead, likely expecting a feast soon. In the distance, there’s gunfire mostly. If there are screams, they’re drowned out. Once in a while, red lights from the bullets flicker through the fog and brighten the scene.

“How much longer?” asks Natasha.

Raven peeks inside the engine again, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Ten minutes or so.”

Natasha crosses her arms to keep from biting her fingernails off. “Come on…” she mutters. “Come back in one piece.”

Wanda walks over to her from the old tree. “They’ll be okay.”

It’s not like her to be this nervous for someone she’s barely known. The wives are different. They’ve always been in her periphery, trying to befriend her in impossible circumstances. Watching as she could go and please as she wanted and never once offering them aid. They continued to smile at her even when she ignored them. They were always kind, familiar.

“How can you be sure?”

Shrugging, Wanda leans her head on Natasha’s shoulder. “It’s what I choose to believe.”

\---

Raven gives the ok for them to get back on the road. Pepper helps them each get into the rig, even Gamora who tends to want to show how self-sufficient she is (which she is). Natasha climbs in after them. She leaves the passenger side free, just in case. In the back, Raven squeezes in tight next to Wanda, a similar area left open.

Natasha starts the rig up with her combination, checking the side mirror to make sure they aren’t being followed. It’s gone though, shot off in one of the many gunfights. She sticks her head out instead, and there they are. “We have a pleasant surprise, ladies,” she tells them with a smile.

Cap and Bucky each hold a bag of ammunition and guns over one shoulder, their faces dirty and bloody but not too serious considering the War Boys’ reputation for ruthlessness. Cap jumps into the passenger seat, and Bucky in the back.

Raven says, “That’s a lot of blood,” glancing at Bucky’s torn shirt and his flesh arm.

“It’s not his,” says Cap with a snort.

 

*

 

A warm light blankets over the sand where they are in the next few hours. Not a crow in sight, but no other life either. It’s back to the desolate Wasteland without water or greenery. Another empty, hot, dry area. The only part that stands out is a tower built on bare-bone wooden base. A woman without shirt or pants screams as loud as she can for help.

Cap narrows his eyes. Natasha turns the rig’s engine off, and starts to get out.

“It’s a trap,” Bucky says.

“I agree,” says Gamora. “Besides, this looks nothing like the Green Place you described in such vivid detail.”

Natasha steps out regardless, her boots sinking into the reddish sand. She can’t stop her feet; she’s drawn to this place. That woman. But she knows better than to go in without some caution.

“I am Natasha. Daughter of Jean Grey. My Grandmother is Peggy. Our clan was called Breath of Life.” She swallows, the woman in the tower freezes. “I have been gone for many moons, but I’ve returned freely.”

The woman slides down the centre pole, bare, gathering her clothing when she reaches the bottom. She dresses quickly, and rushes over to Natasha. “Is it really you?” she asks, touching her cheek. She presses her fingers to the black makeup around her eyes, smudging some off. Her mouth opens in awe.

Natasha nods, her eyes filled to the brim. The woman pulls her into a fierce hug, both of them crying out in a long breath. She remember her name now; even as a child, Sif gave the best hugs and smelled of firewood. With time, she’s gotten stronger surely, but her hold is still as gentle, a caress with a hundred emotions behind it.

“I missed you, Sif,” she murmurs into her long dark hair.

Sif cries out with a laugh. “I thought you’d never return, Tasha.” She pulls out of the hug, holding Natasha’s shoulders, and whistles. “It’s all right. It’s our kin I’m calling.” She smiles widely at her. “Peggy will want to speak with you.”

Natasha hides her face, overwhelmed with happiness. Her grandmother must be nearly ninety years old. “And my mother?” she asks softly, the words dreading to leave her tongue. Worry lines every syllable. Sif shakes her head, outstretching a hand to the sky, grabbing a fistful of air, then pressing it to her chest. Natasha’s tears fall as she does the same gesture, gathering her mother’s love from the afterlife sky.

\---

Peggy’s hair, silver and fine, sparkles in a braid along her face as she recounts Jean’s last adventure to Natasha. “She left early. Earlier than the rest of us get up. All she wrote on the note we found was, ‘I have to save her,’ and we knew it was about you.”

Natasha leans against her grandmother, wiping at her eyes. “She never returned?”

Peggy shakes her head slowly, her hands holding tightly onto Natasha. “She must be so happy to see us reunited.”

At that, a thought occurs to Natasha. She’s been so caught up with old times, she forgot about her promise to the women. “When can we go to the Green Place?”

“No, Tasha—” Peggy frowns.

Natasha sits up straighter. “I know our clan usually only accepts women, but these two helped us—”

“No,” cuts in Peggy. “It is not them. I mean you’ve already seen what’s left of our sacred Green Place if you’re here.”

Across the fire, where Bucky is offering half his plate of potatoes to Cap, he looks up. Natasha can’t breathe, her eyes connecting with his, with Wanda’s, all of them imagining that ominous mudfest – nothing alive for miles.


	13. Heartache

Cap holds his plate a little tighter than necessary, his frustration shifting into the muscles of his hands. Bucky touches his knuckles to take the plate away before he wastes their little food. Cap stares at Natasha, her eyes so far away, hollow. She disentangles herself from her grandmother without a single word.

The moon overhead hides most of her expression as she walks a dead woman’s line across cooling, red sand. What Cap does catch is the brief twitch in one eye and her mouth falling open. At the same time that she collapses to her knees, a feral, resounding bellow escapes from her chapped lips. A cry that seems to last for an age, until, finally, her strength gives way. She drifts around the sand alone afterwards, akin to a ghost.

\---

It’s a hard night’s sleep for Cap. Although he’s gotten Bucky and his memories back, there are so many others out there to worry about. The thin tent the clan provides nearly tumbles over every time he tosses and turns.

Bucky slips in behind him, a hand on his hip to still the movements. “She’ll be okay. She’s stronger than any of us.”

Cap doesn’t doubt that she’ll bounce back, but where will they go? What’s left out there for them? There’s a reason it’s called the Wasteland. It’s also a massive waste of land – solely because of people like Immortan who monopolize water, food, medicine. Maybe that’s what bothers Cap most. “I just can’t sleep with Johann still alive.”

Bucky moves his hand to Cap’s chest, thumping along to his soft heartbeat. “I promise we’ll get him. Just me and you if we have to.”

\---

The morning light shines as usual; Natasha flitters about, chatting with her clan, the wives, and finally Cap. Around her shoulders, she holds a blanket Peggy made her. A welcome back to her family. She stands next to the rig, Cap beside her. She speaks softly, “We’ll be taking as much gas and water as we can carry across the Droughtlands. You’re welcome to come along. We have a bike set up for you and Bucky.”

Cap bows his head, gazing forward at the road they came from. Perhaps he and Bucky can stop Johann before he catches Natasha and the others.

\---

Cap refuses her offer; Bucky appears anything but surprised over that. He oils his metal arm in the vast desert, preparing for a fight. Natasha and the women ride off, their engines purring, full.

Bucky shines his left arm with the fabric Raven gave him. “So we wait to see if Immortan comes?”

“That’s the plan.” Cap sees their dust trails getting further, lighter. Their engines just a soft rumble in the distance.

“Not sure we should wait,” says Bucky. He glances up at Steve from the bike, one eye closed against the glare of the sun. “You think there’s something out there for them?”

Cap paces the length of his bike. He stops, sighs, shakes his head. He looks at Bucky with a desperate look, his eyes wet.

“Then let’s go after them,” says Bucky, pocketing the rag. He lets Cap drive the motorcycle there.

\---

Natasha and the others slow down when they hear Cap coming. The clans-people remove their dust goggles, halting completely.

“How long can you ride across the cracked earth?” asks Cap.

Natasha tilts her head, frowning. “We have enough fuel for about 30 days, why?”

Cap sighs, looking towards where they left the rig empty and waiting for its owner. Bucky prods him with metal fingers. It maybe not be his intention to throw that guilt in Cap’s face, but it does the trick. He doesn’t want these people to go out and lose their lives on an impossible journey – if he can help it.

“I think we’re better off back in the Citadel,” Cap announces.

Everyone starts to protest so Bucky jumps in with, “Immortan has brought every able body on his rampage. That fortress of his only has weak, young boys. And people who are slaves rather than equals. They won’t fight us.”

Peggy nods, glancing around at her kin. “Yes. I like this plan.”

“Grandmother,” scolds Natasha.

“I may be an old woman, but I know how to calculate the odds.”

Ororo, in her lilting accent, says, “And is there not plenty of food and water there?”

Natasha takes her time, watching the wives’ faces. “Would you go back?”

“Without Joe there? Absolutely,” says Raven with a smile.

“I would too,” says Pepper.

Gamora hums a sound, putting her borrowed goggles back on. “I’d like the chance for revenge.”

Wanda climbs on the bike behind her, her eyes welling up. “For Sharon.”

Cap steps on the pedal, Bucky’s flesh arm squeezing around his waist. They’ll lead the women back to safety, even if it means their death.


	14. Redemption

It’s not too far past the fog and crows when Joe’s crew appear in view. They’re stalled, not quite stranded, but they were certainly not pursuing. Johann, a face to match his war namesake – Red Skull – comes back to life when he spots the rig and the bikes. They need the rig to help with the fuel loads, as well as to shove through smaller vehicles. They don’t slow down. They certainly don’t stop. Instead, the rig crashes into bikes and makes a path for the clan and Cap, Natasha focused at the wheel.

Too bad Immortan and his boys recover quickly, moving into battle formations. It might be suicide to go back the way they came if there was another sandstorm ahead. There isn’t. They speed across the Wasteland, trying to stay far enough ahead.

Eventually, War Boys catch up, Goblin one of the front-runners. He shouts, “Traitor!” when he spots Bucky at Cap’s back. His response is to show the finger, a sure-fire way to get the man angry and slip up in his rage.

Goblin bangs atop the roof of his truck, signalling the driver to go faster. He has an explosive pole ready to launch them. As he approaches, Bucky moves in too. Bucky leans over, Cap leaning the opposite way to counter the weight shift. Goblin is within reach; Bucky’s metal arm whirrs as he pushes the truck so hard they slide sideways and smash against another of their own – the explosive going off prematurely.

“Cap, Natasha’s hurt. Help her!” shouts Wanda, frantic.

When Cap glances over, Natasha’s chest is almost fully red, blood seeping through her thin clothing. He curses under his breath, trying to swerve closer to offer a hand.

Wanda’s distraction is enough for Sabretooth to grab her around the waist and drop her in a dusty SUV. Immortan drives up next to the rig, smashing and banging against Natasha’s side. Each impact makes her tighten up and wince with pain.

Cap jumps from his bike when he’s close enough, Bucky taking over. He lands on the side of the rig, just barely, tugging himself up to meet Sabretooth who is stalking to the front.

Bucky steers through gunfire, zipping between friends and foes. Ororo throws him a shotgun; he looks around the clan. “Where’s Sif?” Ororo raises her hand skyward, and Bucky can’t watch the rest.

Cap isn’t too prideful to admit that Sabretooth has more strength; however, his speed doesn’t quite compare. He slides through the big man’s legs, bashing the part of him – and every other man – that will get him to stop his onslaught of punches.

Cap rolls before Sabretooth can grab him, and Bucky fires the shotgun as he’s bending over. He loses his balance and falls off the rig like lumber. Cap breathes out in relief. He crawls the rest of the way towards the front of the rig, seeing the wives and Natasha struggle.

Gamora shoots at Joe from Natasha’s window, and he reaches for her arm. While she fights his grip, Natasha seeks out the fishing pike under her seat. Something she’d been saving just for him. She aims at his face with it. Her aim is off slightly, but Gamora lends a hand of support, and it sticks Joe in the last piece of flesh in his cheek.

Natasha reels him in, saying, “How ‘bout I take what you owe me?” His skull cracks as he tries to wrestle away, chunks of bone falling away. Nothing but wide, deep eyes left behind as he breaks apart.

Gamora laughs with victory calling out to Cap, but Natasha collapses in her arms.

\---

The People-Eater is a joke for Bucky. The man, fat and obviously cannibalistic, chases after the rig. Bucky drives the bike in front, blocking his off-road truck. When the man attempts to shoot at him from the left window, Bucky darts in. His arm shreds the man’s bloated flesh apart as he spins it, a sheen of red stuck between each panel of silver. All that's left is his sleeve, and the shirt pocket with "Stryker" sewn onto it.

The War Boys throw themselves from their vehicles screaming _W_ _itness me_. They aim for the rig as well, a last chance to join Joe in Valhalla, but Gamora shoots down most, Bucky hitting the ones she misses. Cap busies himself with finding a vein – the best part of being a universal donor – to help Natasha stay alive until they arrive at the Citadel.

One War Boy, carrying saws in his clothes, makes it onto the rig quietly. Before he can finish Natasha off with a wild cry, Peggy stands in front to protect her, and the saw pierces her neck. Raven gasps, pulling her back into the rig. Pepper lets loose a low yell, deep from within her, and she grabs the War Boy. She bends him in an impossible way before tossing him overboard, her fingers stained red.

If Cap didn’t know better, he’d think her irises were red instead of the usual blue. Raven settles Pepper down with Peggy, both of them whimpering out sounds of grief. The cut went too far, too serious for a transfusion to work. Natasha falls asleep with her head atop Cap’s knee, his blood being dripped into her like IV.


	15. Back to the Citadel

They confiscate Immortan’s off-road truck, and bring Wanda back from where she was being held. She kicks his corpse for good measure. It’s silly, really, that anyone would think he was immortal; he was just a man with too much power. Bucky settles him on the roof like a hunting trophy, nothing but a white sheet over him.

Wanda and Pepper help the clan to collect Sif’s body from the wreckage to properly respect but also mourn her. Peggy is kept close until her final breath, her fingers combing through Natasha’s red hair. She passes with a smile on her lips, her eyes glassy and open. Cap wants to move her to where Sif is, but he can’t with how weak Natasha still is.

Their drive continues on, quiet, bodies all around, and heads turned down in honour of the fallen souls. The Wasteland is too bleak a place to bury them, too impersonal. So many others, nameless and faceless, have been left to the crows there. It’s not good enough for Natasha’s clan.

The desert leads back into the canyon from before; Natasha still isn’t awake to speak to the leader of the buzzards. They tense up. Bucky rides the bike closer to the rig so Cap won’t be disturbed during his donation, in case he needs to shield him.

Some of the buzzards zip down a hill, getting closer with aggression in their stances. But before a fight breaks out, the man with the patched eye steps in the way of the rig’s travel. He peers inside, glancing from the women to cap and Bucky. He raises a hand to halt his crew.

“Did you kill Joe?” he asks, frowning.

Cap nods slowly. “She did.”

The man’s face eases a bit. “Will Natasha be all right?”

Cap touches her pulse, holds a hand above her face to check for breathing. It’s all stable now. “She should be in a couple hours.”

Cap sees Bucky move in from the corner of his eye. He’s thinking the same as Cap: just because Natasha knows this man doesn’t mean he’ll be kind to them.

“I’m Fury,” he says. “I’ll accompany you back to make sure she gets to the Citadel safely.”

“Thank you,” breathes out Cap. He smiles at Bucky who closes his eyes with a sigh.

The wives bow their heads. Raven says, “She told us you’d be kind.”

Fury clears his throat and steps back. “Well, I’ve known her kindness in the past. It’s only fair.” To the bikers and buzzards, Fury declares, “We’ll be taking the Imperiosa home.”

There’s a lot of murmuring, complaints, irritated comments. He continues, louder, “Immortan Joe has been killed by her hand.”

That gets cheers and shouts of praise:

“Let’s go!”

“What are we waiting for?”

“Long live Natasha!”

Fury speaks to Cap, "Do you think there’s room in the Citadel for us?”

Saying ‘no’ would make him as cruel as Johann. If this gang wanted, they could have pursued and killed them off, but they didn’t. At the same time, agreeing to let them come could put these women and the poor at the bottom of the Citadel in another fire. Cap really can’t decide what to do.

Bucky says, “Only if you let Natasha stay in charge.” He grins when Fury raises a brow. “It’s _only fair_.”

Fury nods with a grumble. “Deal,” he says.

The group leftover pack up and create a path for Natasha’s clan and the rig. Not a soul dares stop them on the way – not with Joe’s prone body on display behind a banner that says _The Citadel belongs to the people._


	16. A Real Home

Cap is careful with Natasha when they arrive. Fury grabs a hold of her shoulder so she can stand easier. Though there are some of Joe’s men left in the Citadel, when she shows off his corpse by kicking it off the rig, they quiet down.

“Let them up!” shout the poor, disfigured people. Others, minds addled or gone, rip flesh from Immortan’s body, trying to take his power –whatever’s left of it.

The young War Boys, pale white, sickly thin, let down the elevator. Next to them, Milk Mothers – their breast overflowing from no one to drink their nutrients – smile with a kind of childish abandon. Fury’s group, as well as the disabled, impoverished people, all cheer as Natasha and the wives get onto the platform first. Fury accompanies her, a hand on her back.

Cap tells Fury, as the chains slowly tighten up, “I’m not staying. Make sure you keep your word to her or I’ll know about it.”

Fury tips his head down, not quite smiling, but as close as he’ll come it seems.

Cap moves into the crowd, trying to blend in with the cheers. He meets Bucky among the people. Bucky touches him gently, first on his elbow, then down to his hand. “Where are you going?”

“Not sure yet,” says Cap with a smile. His mouth twitches at the edges, the need to frown coming much more easily. This could be the end for them, another parting. A long goodbye this time. He doesn’t want to let Bucky go again, but if he has to, he knows the women will be kind to him here.

Bucky leans in, pressing his forehead to Cap’s. He closes his eyes. “I’ll come too.”

“You don’t have to,” whispers Cap. Deep down, he knows it's a lie. They've been inseparable since they were kids.

“I want to,” he says. “Besides, someone needs to make sure you don’t get too many more scars out there.”

Cap laughs, pressing his fingers to Bucky’s nape. “I really missed you, Buck.”

“Back at you, Stevie,” he says, kissing him.

It feels like ‘finally,’ but also like ‘always.’ Cap has always loved Bucky, and Bucky has always been with him.

Cap pulls away, his lips swelling from the kiss. “Let’s go before they try to follow us.” He turns, holding Bucky’s hand in his, and somehow his eyes find Natasha’s gaze on the platform. She opens her mouth, visibly distraught, so Cap raises his other hand in a motionless wave.

She smiles, touching her chest with a closed fist. Bucky tugs at his arm gently to get him moving again. They go through the energized bodies, knowing they can’t look back or they’ll never leave.


	17. Epilogue

There are two graves within the Citadel: one for Sif and one for Peggy. A memorial stone is placed in between for the other lives lost, a new name carved each time someone recalls a person precious to them.

Fury keeps his word, and acts as Natasha’s security – now that she’s her own leader. She offers crops and water to the people below, as well as supplies for rebuilding; there’s simply not enough place for everyone (and all the future generations that will come) inside the Citadel walls.

Within the wives’ quarters, there’s a private room Natasha keeps for Cap and Bucky should they ever need a place to rest up. Or to live permanently. But she won’t get her hopes up. Cap has probably lost loved ones of his own; he’ll seek a way to redeem himself as well, in his own time. At lease he was able to save one of his precious friends.

Natasha stands on the edge of the rocks where Joe used to give his vain speeches, and she says, “If you know anyone outside of here in need of help, please tell me. I will guide them to our sanctuary.”

The people below may still be disfigured, but they are clean now, fed, and they smile peacefully. They raise their hands with the gesture of her clan, in memory of the women who died so they could live this way. It’s not the best arrangement, but it’s a start. The wives stand behind Natasha, each of them bowing to their true hero.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a moment to leave a comment, it would be appreciated. :)


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